Cowboy Bebop: Green Bird & The White Rose, A Romance Fic
by Sonata-Time-Flare-Nocturne-Aoi
Summary: A one-shot. Spike x Julia. Sometimes our greatest memories are best kept in the past. No matter how hard we try to recapture the moment or run from previous incident, fate takes its place in our lives, judging everyone equally without mercy. Rated T.


**Story**: Cowboy Bebop: Green Bird & The White Rose, A Romance Fic  
**Authors**: Nocturne & Aoi  
**Written**: July 1st, 2019  
**Genre**: Romance, Hurt/Comfort  
**Rating**: T  
**Disclaimer**: We do not own Cowboy Bebop or its cast of tragic characters.

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**{One Shot}**

A sudden haze, as consciousness crept its way into Spike's mind.

He blinked his eyes, trying to focus them, he heard a faint lilting voice singing softly next to him, on his right, he thinks.

"You're awake, I was worried that you wouldn't wake up."

Her voice was an angels come to save him; her blonde hair touched his face as she leaned over him looking at him intently.

"You were so badly, I was surprised you survived at all, let alone that you came out of it, unscathed," she continued.

He touched her hair it was so soft against his callused fingers.

"What happened? Where am I?" he wondered out loud.

"I found you leaning against my door, Spike."

They stood back to back, it was them against everyone. They always fought like this, there was no better, too bad their opponents didn't know that. Spike turned his head and grinning, while Vicious returned the look before turning around.

The gun blasts could be heard from miles away.

Spike had been hit more than once, and Vicious had disappeared, he was probably dead, so he crawled to the one place he hoped he would be safe...

...Julia.**  
**

"Vicious," she spoke quietly.

"I know you know where he is. Finish it Julia, for us," he touched her face briefly.

"I can't," she murmured.

"You can," he replied. He kissed her cheek, but she moved away, appalled by him.

"Do it or I'll do it for you, then you'll be next," he told her, his cruel features contorted in rage. She watched him leave before she moaned deep inside herself and cried.

"Leave with me Spike," Julia whispered.

Spike nodded.

"Yes, I just need to do one more thing, then I'll come for you," he told her; she looked up at him, begging him with her eyes not to go.

"I have to."

"Spike!" He looked at the gun that she pointed at him.

"So, you're the one."

"Spike," her hands were shaking as she held the gun.

"Leave with me Spike."

"So what wasn't a lie?" Spike asks.

"Everything." Julia replied; she shot past his head, he turned around and looked at the body that fell over.

She hastily shoved the gun her pocket and looked at him with remorse.

"This isn't supposed to be how it is." she whispered before running away, in the rain.

Spike found himself running away, if only to find her again, he loved her, she was his past, and he has hoped that she would be his future as well. Maybe, no they would meet again, and they would be together, he was sure, or naïve, but he wasn't willing to admit that.

But time had passed…and the moment they thought was lost forever blossomed once more in a chance encounter.

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The thin rain that fell from the outside dripped slowly through the windows. The smoke from the several cigarettes already swallowed was visible in the dim light of a lamp. He smoked another while pouring cheap whiskey into a glass, and crooned softly and out of tune at the blues he heard on the old clock radio at the side of the bed. A junk that he had won in an antique shop, but it was still very useful.

He leaned against the wall, drank, swallowed, breathed out slowly, grunted a gratitude to any god, and looked at her. Languid and slowly.

Julia slept quietly, delicately, innocently, like an angel. Drops of sweat still trickled down her curved, beautiful, soft back. Spike did not remember ever seeing her as fragile and delivered as that night, totally different from when he'd first met her. The memory of that day made him smile with the corner of his mouth and then take a deep drag on another cigarette that had been lit. She had her hair tied, a short, tight skirt showed the curve of her hips, and the pistol gripped her waist denounced the woman she was.

In one hand a pool cue, in the other a bottle of beer. The puzzling blue eyes coldly calculated his next shot, evidently did not like to lose. He quarreled with a light-haired, stern-eyed fellow, his future friend and foe, who would have imagined. The blonde had noticed the glazed look of her admirer, who drank something in a dark, quiet, observant corner. He invited her to a new match, obviously had beaten the man with whom he played. He smiled defiantly at Spike, without even telling him his name, or asking him his name. Julia had an indecipherable and shrewd look, a quiet, cunning voice, the seductive, light movements like a demon. And by demons Spike was attracted.

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He was frightened by the good memory. He increased the volume of the music a little more, he liked the female voice he heard. Julia shifted in bed, lying with her body up and discovering herself from the sheet, exposing all her nakedness. Nudity that he had caressed with his hands and body just moments ago. He never felt she was so much his. He approached the bed again and looked at her more closely, focusing only on his clear, angular face. She wanted to touch him, but it would be a sin to wake her from her sleep. She picked up the empty glass and filled it again, whiskey shots were never too much. He sat up in bed, drank little sips, breathed in the smoky air, and suddenly he felt a pleasant warmth running down her back, velvety skin wrapping around him, and the wetness of his lips brushing her ear. She gently took the glass from his hands and sucked the rest of the liquid.

"Excellent song, lousy drink," his sleepy voice complained. She gave a slight tug at Spike's tangled hair, inviting him to lie down next to her. She stretched out over his body, enjoying it with all his senses. Impossible not to react so forcefully to the only woman who made him feel really alive after years of deep inertia when he dealt with all sorts of morbid, insipid people. He slid his fingers down her long golden hair, kissed every inch of her narrow shoulders as he felt the tips of her fingers tracing their backs. He returned to love her with his body, delighting himself, fussing. He looked directly at her and she looked away from his, closing them at once. Her red mouth was closing, too few murmurs escaped her throat, unlike Spike who never suppressed a sigh. He wrapped his arms around her waist, moved closer to her chest to feel the slight, uneven pulse. Heart uncontrolled like his own, who did not say loves, but loved. For hours, two relentless lovers. Julia's doses would never be too much.

To disappear, to vanish from her the sight of all. Take away your half that you had long sought. She was the other part she had lost at some point in her life. Only the two, away from Vicious, away from people like him and anything that reminded them of the unfortunate. She would never feel bound to another man other than Spike.

The next day he would give her roses. Roses and a proposal of escape, to live as if in a dream, or anything else that seemed impossible and happy.

But that day...would sadly never come to be.

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**Please review, your feedback is most appreciative. We will write more one-shots if reader response is great enough.**


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